


(Awkward) Situations

by TheBlackMagister



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Elliot just wants his peace in these trying times, Knotting, Light BDSM, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Pseudo-Incest, References to Drugs, basically plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlackMagister/pseuds/TheBlackMagister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot's been gone a while. Mr. Robot decides now's a good a time as any to go find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Awkward) Situations

Elliot's been gone a while.

It's Darlene who suggests maybe they should check on him. It's not unusual for him to disappear, but he hadn't even given a hint he was going to - he had just left. There's an awkward pause before Mr. Robot finally offers to go. Elliot seems to trust him most; that's his reasoning, anyway. Darlene offers to come with him, in case of possibly needing to break the door down, but he shakes his head, says Shayla will let him in. He's oddly serious and nobody's exactly cracking jokes.

Shayla _does_ let him in when he gets there. He's all business and he guesses it must show because she doesn't stop to question him about anything. Truth be told he's worried about Elliot. The kid's important to him - not just to the plan, to fsociety, but to him as a person. Maybe it's the Alpha instincts, to protect the only Omega in his life? He doesn't know. He's never had a true Omega around before. Maybe he's just overprotective.

Whatever the case he doesn't hesitate to knock when he reaches Elliot's door. He gets a muffled, vague "Go away!" from inside but fuck no, that's not an answer. He didn't take two fucking hours out of his day to be told to leave. So he unlocks the door with the key Shayla gave him, Elliot be damned, because if there's something wrong he's not gonna sit by and do nothing.

The first thing that hits him is the smell. It's not unpleasant, not by a long shot, but it's distinctly - Elliot. It's not the smell of morphine like it would have probably been at one point; nor is it the smell of the black coffee and cigarettes that Elliot had taken up in the last half of the withdrawals. It's a fresh out of the shower sort of scent - citrus or maybe a fruit of some kind. It's the scent of New York City at night, when it's less busy, when the air is cleaner, fresher, crisper.

And the only thing Mr. Robot can really say is, "Holy shit, you smell  _great_."

"Get out," Elliot mutters into the couch but his voice lacks conviction. He's not mad. In fact he looks kind of funny - he's buried his head under a pillow to drown out the world. Finally Mr. Robot shuts the door and saunters over and Elliot's heat is so fucking enticing, but he's got to restrain himself.

"Having problems, kid?"

All he gets is a muffled grunt. He crouches next to Elliot, reaches out and lets their fingers brush, and Elliot shudders, gripping his hand like it's his only lifeline. His free hand moves up to Elliot's back, rubbing slow, soothing circles. He's surprised Elliot's letting him touch him; Elliot's usually withdrawn from contact, even from Mr. Robot. Elliot's physically trembling under his palm and the younger's breathing is shaky. He lets his hand slide up under Elliot's shirt, touching bare skin. It's warm. Elliot whimpers.

"How long have you been putting this off?" Mr. Robot murmurs. "You know me or one of the other Alphas would have helped you.."

"'s embarrassing," Elliot mumbles. "Didn't -  _fuck_ \- didn't want.. nnh."

If just touching his back could elicit this kind of response, Mr. Robot's a little excited to find out what actually fucking him would be like. Slowly he eases Elliot's shirt up, hinting he wants to take it off, and Elliot lets the clothing slip off. The younger rolls over submissively, showing his stomach and neck, and shit - that's it. He's fucking Elliot. Now.

He undoes the button on Elliot's jeans, and Elliot's hips left to help him slide them off. He makes an involuntary possessive noise, moving onto the couch to kneel between Elliot's thighs. Elliot's breathing hard and his dark eyes, were they always that green?, are blown wide, _fuck_. His own pants are getting tighter by the second, so he yanks them down and off and then kisses Elliot to keep the kid quiet when he grinds down. It's a good thing, too, because Elliot moans shamefully loud into his mouth, back arching. 

"Elliot, shh," He breathes lowly as he pulls back, one hand creeping into Elliot's boxer-briefs. "We don't want anyone to hear, right?"

"N-no - fuck-" Mr. Robot's gripped his cock, gentle but firm, and the slow, even strokes up his length are driving him mad. He grits his teeth to stifle another moan. Having an Alpha so close makes him feel like he's burning and fuck he needs Mr. Robot  _now_. 

"Please," His voice is choked, "Please, I need you, please."

"Shh.." Mr. Robot nuzzles his neck, knee pressing up between his thighs. "I'll take care of you, Elliot."

"I - Okay. Okay. I - I trust you."

Elliot's still shaking under him, not that he blames the poor kid. He's still working smoothly on Elliot's dick, kissing his neck, and Elliot's like putty in his hands, trembling, whimpering pathetically. He knows they have to go slow - Elliot could get hurt if they don't - but the need to fuck him senseless is becoming more urgent. He tugs off the remaining clothes between them - Elliot's underwear and his own, and his own t-shirt. Elliot's mumbling something that could be "please"; he's not really sure because Elliot's voice is slurred with pleasure and want. He leaves little love bites on the tan skin, making sure they bruise because he wants everyone,  _everyone_ , to know Elliot's his and his alone. And fuck no, he doesn't share.

Mr. Robot wants to do more, he knows they should, but he needs to be inside Elliot _now_. There's no time for lots of foreplay. They don't have any lube in the vicinity so he uses the next best thing before lining up with Elliot's entrance and pushing in. He covers Elliot's mouth to muffle the younger's moan, grunting with pleasure at the tightness around the head of his cock. Fuck - if it's like this the whole time he won't last long. 

"Elliot, babe, t-try to relax - fuuuck.."

Elliot's only half-coherent. He's shaking, gripping Mr. Robot's forearms, mumbling what might be "good" under his breath. He does relax, though, even if only slightly, and Mr. Robot presses forward, easing deeper. Elliot's back arches at the feeling and a pleasured noise escapes both of them. Good God, Elliot's tight. It's amazing. Mr. Robot leans down, seals their lips together and Elliot whines submissively. Fuck - this is better than morphine, this is better than ecstasy and that was great. Elliot's chest is heaving and he's letting out muffled whimpers, clutching at the couch cushions, and damn does he look good. Mr. Robot shoves in the rest of the way, hands finding Elliot's hips, and the kid cries out, tensing up, going completely stiff.

"You okay?" The older pants. Probably shouldn't have done that, in retrospect. Should have prepped Elliot better. But, well, it happened, so the best he can do is let Elliot adjust, panting and trembling beneath him. Elliot nods in response to the question but the lust in his eyes is tempered with pain. _Shit_. He kisses Elliot again, trying to make up for it, and Elliot's arms wrap around his neck. Yep - he's forgiven. He lets his hands slide down under Elliot's thighs and picks the younger up, leaning back so Elliot's in his lap. Elliot's face presses into his neck, holding onto his shoulders, panting. Elliot is unbelievably tight around his cock and fuck does he want more.

"You ready to move?" Mr. Robot's voice is husky. Elliot nods but Mr. Robot lets the pause draw out a moment longer before pulling back, almost completely out; and when Elliot whimpers in protest he thrusts back in and Elliot moans, head tilting back. He sets up a rhythm like that, slow, tempting, pulling back far and rocking hard back in. He knows it won't satisfy Elliot for long but he's stalling, trying to make sure Elliot's used to him.

"C-come  _on_ ," Elliot whines. "Fuck me, really fuck me, damnit.."

"Fine," And he picks up the pace, thrusting faster, deeper. Elliot's lips part in a steady stream of moans and whines, clinging to Mr. Robot. He's beautiful like this, really. It's a sight that Mr. Robot could definitely get used to seeing. Elliot's tense, eyes closed, and Mr. Robot kisses him hard, bruising his lips. Elliot melts into his body, whimpering. 

"Such a good boy," Mr. Robot murmurs lowly. "So good for me, Elliot. So good."

"Mn - A-Alpha- feels so good - I - nnh-"

"Shh." Mr. Robot begins to stroke his cock, kissing his neck. "Quiet, El. Don't want the neighbors to hear, right?"

"No - _fuck_ -"

Elliot can't keep his voice down. Mr. Robot's slamming into his spot every time and he's seeing stars, he's so close he can taste it - metaphorically, of course. For now. He's drowning in pleasure. This isn't him, this isn't his life, but hell it might have to become it if having sex always feels this great. He can't tell how much is his heat urging on Mr. Robot, and how much is his own want, his need, for the fucking pleasure. 

"Elliot," Mr. Robot grunts. "You gotta quiet down, babe, or I'm gonna have to make you."

Elliot whimpers. Mr. Robot lays him down on the couch, pulls his legs up and he wraps them over the Alpha's shoulders. He doesn't even hesitate to guide Mr. Robot's hands down on his throat, gags at the pressure. It's good. Mr. Robot's not hesitant to choke him. His hips jerk and he's trying to hold on, he's struggling not to cum but it's hard; Mr. Robot fucks him so well. 

"Close," He warns breathlessly. "F-fuck - so close.."

"Not yet, Elliot. Not yet."

"Please," Elliot's begging and damnit they both know what his begging does to Mr. Robot, "Please, l-let me cum, please.."

"Hold on for me, Elliot." One hand moves from Elliot's neck to the base of his cock, grip firm, keeping him from orgasm. "Not yet."

The longer it's prolonged the more sensitive Elliot is. He's shaking violently, he can barely breathe - he's so, so sensitive, every touch is fire on his skin. His heels dig into Mr. Robot's back, he doesn't know how much longer he can hold on before he explodes into a thousand tiny pieces. A strangled sob of ecstasy leaves him. He's gripping the cushions beneath him so hard he's wondering if he might never be able to let go of them. His knuckles are almost white.

"Tell me what you want, Omega," Mr. Robot breathes. "Say it, Elliot."

"Wan-wanna - wanna c-cum - please fuck  _please_ -"

"Then I'll pull out and leave you to your hand. I need more than that.."

"Want - want yo-you to make me cum - want you to f-fuck me so hard I can't walk want you to make me cum all over myself  _please_  Alpha-"

He's getting less coherent with each passing second, each strike into his prostate. Mr. Robot decides, eh, fuck it; if he keeps the kid going any longer Elliot might just burst. He lets his grip loosen ever so slightly, just enough to drag roughly up Elliot's dick, and just like that - one, two, three, and Elliot's finished. He's quiet through his orgasm, jerking under Mr. Robot's hands, but he tightens considerably, and it's enough to bring Mr. Robot to his own peak, letting his load loose into Elliot. For a moment they're stuck; Mr. Robot lost control, knotted deep in him. They're both panting and every so often Elliot whimpers.

After a few heartbeats Mr. Robot's relaxed enough to pull back, easing out. Elliot's obviously exhausted. He nuzzles into Elliot's neck, murmurs gentle praise, rubbing his stomach, the fingerprint bruises on his throat. He picks Elliot up bridal style and carries him into the bathroom. Elliot's dozing already. He doesn't spend too much time being fancy; he wets a washcloth with warm water and cleans them both up, firm but gentle. When it comes time to go to bed Elliot pouts to be carried again, and damnit, he's never been one to resist the puppy dog eyes. He lifts Elliot again, carries him out and lays him on the mattress. The first thing they need to do tomorrow, he decides, is get Elliot a  _real_ bed. He borders on having Elliot eat something, but Elliot's already asleep and it's so cute he can't bring himself to wake the poor kid up.

"Jesus," He mutters, lowering himself next to Elliot. "You really need a frame for this."

He curls protectively around the Omega, nuzzles into the bruised and bitten skin. His. Elliot's his and his alone. Elliot murmurs contentedly in his sleep, shifting and turning to nuzzle into Mr. Robot's neck. He's so peaceful like this. Mr. Robot almost wishes he could take a picture, keep it forever. Well, he figures; if Elliot enjoyed it enough then they can have as many of these nights as they like, and as many of the morning that's to follow, too.

After all - pictures don't last forever.


End file.
